An Elegant Gesture
by maddythinks
Summary: Jane Farrar tries to understand why she is so angry, disturbed and turned on. all thoughts lead to the mysterious Mandrake.REVIEW,REVIEW!Now a story! ch 4 updated! please read and review! sorry fr not uploading anything all this while but am back!
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I am not Jonathan Stroud. Period. So I don't own anything by him. Period. Since I am sick of repeating this word, I am off to write my first ever one shot, grammatical errors and all.

…...........................

Her green eyes were alive with fury. They shot emerald sparks at the retreating figure of John Mandrake. He would do this to her time and again. She never learned. Oh yes, he was intelligent. Brilliant. Probably that is why. He knew what to do, when to do it.

She was putty in his hands, and she hated that. She shed some of her temper on the cherry wood door of her study and slammed it hard as she banged it shut.

Her anger dimmed as she read some more information on torturing djinn. Tricky creatures they were. The first chance they'd get, the last chance of one's survival. Her thoughts drifted to this afternoon in the Byzantine garden.

He had come in his ridiculously tight black suit and intercepted her. Oh no, not like others who tried too hard, or too little. He came inches next to her and stepped back. He then gave a thin-lipped smile and a small bow, so characteristic of him. All in a matter of seconds. The closeness unsettled her and his slightly musky cologne gave its trace to the air around her nostrils. So boyish. She snorted as turned a page.

She couldn't help but recall how his eyes traveled down her newly acquired form in his so called elegant gesture. As if satisfied, he stepped back and gave an appraising smile. His lips pouted slightly and then parted as the corners of his mouth stretched into the human gesture of a neutral greeting.

To the guests, who had little understanding of his twisted mind, saw it as the by-play of his extreme courteousness. They didn't see the predatory look in his dark eyes. They didn't see his quiet confirmation of something he already knew, right when he was eleven years old, trailing behind his master.

She remembered how he had looked at her, two years ago at he Prime Ministers Ball. His eyes, fathomless orbs that they were, drew in knowledge from everywhere. The Hall. The important people. The smart coats. The hard, crystalline charm which magicians exuded. And then they fell on her.

She felt his eyes on her, as they followed her across the hall and then blinked away as they snatched all information from her, without consent. She wondered if it was then, that they-- _he_ saw the real Jane Farrar. Insecure, ambitious, pretty and above all-- an actor. The one who could emote and make the other person feel as if what she faked were real. But, even so, she felt as if he knew, _he knew_, that they were not.

He saw that ambitious but diffident magician. He saw that beautiful but unsure girl. He saw that dangerously charming but inwardly trembling girl. Her eyes brimmed with hot, angry tears as she recalled again, with a wince, how she jumped at the tidbits of information he gave to her. The flick of his parting bow was laced with derision. _You try so hard_, he said, unsaid.

She threw the book aside and looked into her mirror. Tears were streaking her flushed face and she gave a tiny sob and clutched the tiny dressing-table. Despite this provocation, her anger was at something else. Something else _entirely_.

She felt exposed. She felt as if she was being watched. The voyeur Mandrake was observing, savoring. But then she liked it. Everywhere she felt his challenge, his bait to provoke her. She liked it. It was sick, the way she felt powerful, when his eyes showed naked want. For her. To be with her.

After all, she could also see how that she had something which did threaten his safe idea of age. She brought the thoughts of a man and planted them in his colorless, soft intelligence. So childish. She wanted that childish mind to rake her again and become what he had to. A man. A magician. She could also become a woman that way. She could wait for that. In this world or another, she only needed that touch. Of magic.

If she was putty in his hands, she was the only one who could make him sculpt. She knew he had ideals, she didn't. She had ambition, he had dreams. In derision or desire, her difference from him was the factor which drew him.

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Please, Please review. I've tried one-shot for the first time and let me know what you think. Whether it was good, bad or simply unreadable. All criticisms and ideas welcomed.


	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I don't own any of the stuff that Jonathon Stroud created. I only own stuff I write however good or bad they maybe. And other stuff also. But hey I should started instead going on about what I own. Or not.

By the way I decided to extend my one-shot( _ me_ : sighhhh).....on request by THE *** **fabulous * reviewers. I did want to but couldn't as I didn't know what to/how to continue. But I know finally what I am doing. I hope it will be a short and sweet story (_my alter_: ..ahemm...not sweet!! gross!!.. _me :_ allright a little sour then..so much for me being trite..).. Please read, review and enjoy!!!!!

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"..The Golem has been finally stopped and its creator seems to be Police Chief Henry Duvall. This shocking discovery comes with a lot of help from Mandrake, the precociously young minister..."

Jane stuffed her things into the many half-opened boxes and switched off the television. She knew that her colleagues would have been amazed to see her work manually instead of making imps or foliots do her work. But then she wasn't like other magicians. Her personal, daily functioning was something she never had let anyone interfere in, not even the nice Mrs. Allen who had looked after her when she was young.

Life had changed. Not greatly, but becoming Deputy Police inspector had its advantages. She could have an entire apartment in the center of London City. More than that, she had a _humungous_ closet.

It was thankfully different from the simple room which had a side-door which had been utilized by Duvall to open directly into his bedroom. She shuddered at the thought of the nights when her master, inebriated, had pushed and wrenched at it. Well, now she wouldn't have to live in fear.

She smiled and walked around her deserted and messed-up room. However disturbing the room was, it was still the place where she had discovered that she had power. She had studied magic here and prayed to be released from this cage. They seemed to have worked.

…......................

It was nightfall. She was tired but still went on packing. It was the turn of the hundreds of books she was, now the proud owner of. She lifted them gently, checked for any damages and stacked them into one of the three teetering piles. The first pile were of those in a reasonable condition, the second of those in a marginally poor condition and the last contained those which were beyond repair and needed special attention.

She scowled as she remembered Duvall's utter disregard for his books. He only cared for two things-- power and wine. Oh and women, which was of course, an on and off passion. They were mere objects to him. As were many other things.

She felt her temper rise and dropped two of the texts on the floor. _Take deep breaths.. he is no more..breathe.._

…...................

Her head was dropping down and her eyes shut with their own accord. She pushed herself through the last pile of books, which were her own. These were very old and worn. Bought second hand on Duvall's instructions, they were the first thing she had owned. It gave her ambition and the will to rise, no matter what. Because she had the power. The magic.

She pulled out a thin volume and turned it around. She rifled through some pages, when she saw some wouldn't turn properly. She opened it carefully and read some of the pages.. _torturing djinni is both a necessary and entertaining act... _the pages were in a wide fold as if someone had------

_She threw the book aside and looked into her mirror. Tears were streaking her flushed face and she gave a tiny sob......_

So, there it was. It was the first time she had held it since she had acknowledged her weakness. After that breakdown, she promised that Mandrake would be pinned under the heel of favorite stiletto. She didn't care what it would take, what _that _ambition could do to her.

The room seemed to swim, and the air brought back the old excitement. The thrill of being watched. And of learning at the same time.

She had buried it in the last drawer of her dresser. Somehow, the book served as a an alien intelligence watching her. Mandrake's thoughts were attached to this book and they followed her everywhere.

Its gaze was deadly but it spurred her act. Finally, she didn't need that spur, that push and she buried the book like many of her bad memories.

Well, not anymore. She put the book on her packing case and smiled to herself. _This time when you look at me, I will look right back at you, John Mandrake. _

That is what she had thought. Whether that happened, only he could tell. Jane switched off the light and tried to sleep. She _tried to_, anyway...


	3. Chapter 3

The boxes were overturned. Whatever was packed with meticulous care, lay in disarray all over the floor. Jane had locked herself into her closet. Someone knocked softly on the exterior. She breathed in the smell of varnish and held an elemental sphere. She felt sicker by the moment but didn't care.

After series of knocks, a voice said "I don't know why you are afraid of your ambitions. Don't you understand what they are?"

The elemental sphere exploded. Jane screamed and clutched at her hand. Shards pierced it and she looked at her own blood in shock as it stained the shelves darker than the blackness in the closet.

…...

Jane woke with a start and looked around. She looked at her hand. No blood. All the boxes were the way the way were last night. Taped, stacked and ready for the movers. She slowly got up from her bed and settled the bedclothes. After her usual morning activities she packed the rest into more boxes.

Drawing three simple pentacles she called for her foliots. They appeared one after other with a crack. A young schoolgirl, a rabbit with a top hat and a hippie guy in bell-bottoms. They bowed.

Jane waved her hand to the boxes. "You all know what to do. Pick up gray ones and take them to my apartment. Arrange them in my library and drawing room. Then take the brown ones and arrange them in my closet. Be off now." She snapped her fingers as she said this.

...

"Mr. Jive. I think I had asked you to ready my papers by eight in the evening and leave them _in my office_. However I find you coming with it as I enter. Any reason?" Jane asked as she moved from behind her desk to the center of the room. Her heels clacked to a stop some distance away from a fidgety Mr. Arwin Jive.

He was an old timer who worked with Henry Duvall and accompanied him in many of his ventures of the questionable and unquestionable kinds. Some of which involved Jane working with him in his over-heated, cramped office for longer hours.

She was angry and mystified at he how he remained when all of Duvall's accomplices were detained in the Tower of London. Not that he had many in this adventure of his which had him jump out of the questioning room. Even so. She had now a right to make him sweat in his uncomfortable office.

"...Jane..err.." Jane narrowed her eyes to a flinty glint. "Miss Farrar...Miss Farrar... in the light of the tragedy...it's just been a week … I was a bit overcome because of..." Her eyes bored into his as he fumbled a little more, reddened and finally said "Sorry, ma'am. It won't happen again."

She dropped her gaze to the central pentacle. "I don't think it will. Thank you." She smiled and gestured "If you please?" Jive stumbled across and left the files on her table. He walked out feeling that his shoes were three sizes too big.

Well this wasn't something she had bargained for. There were masses of papers- printed, handwritten, customized and even with calligraphy which waited for her reviews. They were usually suggestions from lower ministers on how to improve law and order, employing more soldiers on the American Front etc. It was marginally interesting but mostly laborious. She felt as if she was still in training when the various tutors used to assign essays which combined seemingly unrelated material. She sighed and started to read.

…...

The bell-bottomed guy appeared in the central pentacle. "Ma'am. We have done what you said. Your place looks groo-ovy. I think you should inspect it." The foliot said this as he adjusted his bead necklace.

Jane looked through him as he gave his report. At least this team of foliots could start and finish on time. It was nearly time for her to leave. "Right." she said. He shifted on his feet and said. "...So..my charge..." . Jane made a slight face and said "You are dismissed. No more charges."

She stretched and walked out of her plush seat which now felt like a bed of nails. Most of her body was stiff from not moving for six hours straight. She knew she had to walk around her office and inspect others at their work. But before that she had to complete Duvall's work which had piled up for three months. Today she had completed two week's worth of reviewing.

A few workers moved about with soft footfalls, as though not to disturb her. They quickly looked up and continued with their work as she made her round. She stopped outside Mr Jive's office and looked in. He was bent over three identical looking files on which he piled different kinds of sheets. She knocked on the side of his door for attention.

"Miss Farrar! I thought you had left. So I had them sent to your new residence." said Mr. Jive as he came towards the door.

Jane frowned. "I thought I'd take them myself. Why had you sent them over? My study isn't even ready, Mr. Jive." She remained where she was and smiled icily. "Efficiency can be too much of a virtue don't you think?"

He stopped and settled his tie nervously. "Miss Farrar I was told..". Jane narrowed her eyes. "...I felt that this time you would find it easier-"

Jane cut him off and said " I wouldn't like you to assume orders, Mr. Jive. I'd rather give them myself." She stretched out her hand for the files he had just completed. He gave them, looking more nervous than earlier. Her gray, frosted nails contrasted against the staid black files.

She took them and clacked away on her heels. She stopped abruptly and said "Who told you Mr. Jive?"

He stopped inches away from his seat and answered "Told me me what, Miss Farrar?" He appeared confused and chewed his lip. "You said you were told. What were you told?". Jane grew more and more suspicious. She knew that everyone knew that she was shifting residence, and that ministers often did that in full view of the public, but she felt something was wrong. Why had he sent them over? He hadn't had as much forethought.

"I was told you were shifting residence, Miss Farrar. By the information memos..."

She blinked and turned away, leaving an even more nervous looking Mr. Jive shuffling back to his seat.

...

Everything was clear, routine. She had to trust her employees more. Of course, Mr Jive can send documents over. Duvall asked for them to be sent over several times. Entering, she walked over to her large, modern looking window and pressed the button for the glass to slide over.

She remembered how her master would never do such thing. The air of the city, he said could be harmful for him. Reality meant a wallpaper which was plastered on his window, complete with shiny lights and interesting buildings.

Damp, strong breeze blew in and ruffled her hair. Her green eyes reflected the black sky, and turned a shade darker. Everything was intact. All the smells, the sounds, the moving lights and the still buildings. Each one seemed so alive with its insides glowing, as if it would end in a blaze any day, with all of it coming towards Jane in a warm blast.

Her wall clock dropped suddenly and shook her out of her reverie. She should look over those files before tomorrow.

…...

She examined the flat buttoned number pad on the elevator. It was so much more modern, subtle and shiny in its plainness and business-like look compared to her old, handsome bungalow which was owned by Duvall. She remembered its entrance with smile - it had a embossed, stylized knocker with a poor imp imprisoned with it which conveyed a message to her if anyone was to enter.

The number ten glowed lemon yellow under its blackened ink as she reached her floor.

The doors slid open noiselessly as a female voice said '10th level'. She clacked out on her heels, wincing at the noise it created in the otherwise quiet environment. After all, no one else lived this high.

Today, or actually tonight would be the first time, when she would enter her apartment, without any accompanying official or spirit. A certain thrill went through her as pulled out her swipe card. She dropped it. Clicking her tongue, she bent to pick it up. The card slipped out of her grip again, and slid forward. She went ahead and delicately picked it up by holding it the edges. The black card reflected the tiny light for the entire floor. A moth flickered around it. _I didn't know that moths could live at this height, _she thought.

Holding it firmly, she moved towards the door. For a moment she stood still. It was like entering someone elses' home. A someone, who was rich, brilliant and successful. A someone she had heard about through the chinks of Duvall's study, when sharp suited magicians, would discuss their new 'property' in careless tones, and would invite other sharp suited magicians for a drink.

Before she slid the card in, she touched the dark, plain looking mahogany door. A faint musky smell tinged with citrus wafted out to her. She smiled and thought, _nice varnish. Maybe I can get some for the whole place._

Breathing it in, she swiped her card and finally entered.

She didn't see the tiny light and moth flicker and disappear as she shut the door.

...

A/N: I tried to be creepy n all wd this chappy. Really wonder if I managed it. Well that's what you all are gonna decide! tel me if it was weird, even a wee bit creepy, readable (be kind to me, readers, to a lazy, truant and mildly talented fan fic writer) or just unreadable. Have full intentions to complete it so please dont abandon me, like I did to you all.

Lastly: REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW REVIEW ;) :0 ;) ;0 ;)


	4. Chapter 4

The door clicked silently into its place as she walked ahead, taking in her new apartment. Sure enough, it was slick and modular as it appeared in its advertisements. There were three sofas with neat, uncluttered embroidery, light colored rugs and a white couch. The wall windows showed off cane chairs in the balcony and of course Jane's own reflection. She saw a sliver of a woman: the darkness only showed the silhouette of herself.

She smiled at her impeccable apartment. Her hard work, focus was laid about her unobtrusively. She went out to her balcony, and for a moment the transparent door, reflected her form. _An elegant home for an elegant me, _she thought with a happy sigh.

The view was immense: the Millennium Bridge stretched out long and steely as St Paul's Cathedral glowed with its white luminescence. Many little lights burned steadily in the buildings near the cathedral as the Thames twisted ahead and distorted their yellow brightness into myriad colors. Jane could have stood there and watched the river forever. One could never tell what color the river's current would reveal in reaction to a light reflected.

She walked in, and finally turned on the lights. _Another yellow light_, she thought. What color would it be?

Kicking off her shoes, she fell down on her couch. Her feet expanded in relief as the tight pumps released their hold. She mused whether she should stop wearing them: nah, it was like Jane Farrar leaving her poise behind. Besides they were too elegant to be locked away in her closet. _Elegant. I'm too fond of this word tonight. _

The light flickered for an instant. She looked up, but nothing seemed to be amiss. Maybe the new fittings were still unsure of themselves. The need for a reliable servant was most felt as Jane traipsed down to the kitchen and made dinner, which mainly comprised of opening and heating packet food. She remembered Duvall's elaborate courses as she ate her compact and swift dinner. A good servant would settle, clean the place and give meals on time too. Oh well, she could pick anyone from the brood which she called today. She smiled as she imagined a rabbit with a top hat serving her dinner.

…...

She read her favorite Enid Blyton as she prepared herself for a pleasant drowsiness. She got this book on a whim, when her tutors forgot to advise her about what books to buy with her allowance.

The Faraway Tree was her most loved book, companion and comforter, and she remembered how it served to take her way from the sneaky, vicious world of magicians. It would never come with any of the books which are usually prescribed for apprentices.

No, they were to be exposed only to dry, factual treatises on spells and djinn. Storybooks and fiction after all could turn their focus away from their true purpose of serving the government.

She read and felt a gentle warmth as Joe, Bessie and Frannie discovered the forest for the first time. A little later, her head lay at an angle on her pillow. The book remained open and the reading lamp cast a small oval of light about her torso.

The dark seemed solid outside that little shape of brightness. A moth flickered around the lamp. The light was now broken, and fluttered like the wings of the moth.

The moth examined the sleeping form with its many eyes.

_A s close as possible_ its master spoke.

_He doesn't care about my precious essence,_ it thought, and with a grimace it drifted closer to Jane. Her mouth was slightly open and a strap of her nightgown had slipped off her shoulder. Her skin was caramel colored and her brown hair was a shade lighter under the dim light.

Maybe it was the whisper, or the light beat of wings but Jane woke with a start with a moth fluttering about her nose. With a cry, she jumped back, and bumped her head on the bed stead. Angrily, she clamped her hand around the tiny body and squeezed its life out.

She opened her palm and its essence evaporated quickly.

Numb with shock, she leapt from her bed and stood with her back to the wall window. Panting, she tried to collect herself.

Moths do not evaporate. _A spy_, she thought. But how? Weren't her magical wards safe? Panicking, she turned around and placed her palm on the window and muttered three syllables. Her mouth went dry as she found no golden net being highlighted about her walls.

Some one had compromised her. _Who and how?_ Another thought entered and unleashed a full blown panic attack. _What if that person was here now? _

She bent down and pulled away the rug, to reveal a simple pentacle.

Her mouth fell open in horror as she saw it lay smudged and blackened. Hands shaking, she wrenched open the drawers and searched frantically for a piece of chalk. She cried little sobs as her hand closed around air. The drawer remained as if newly installed, without her things.

Her knees gave way and she fell down on the hard floor crying. She had no lenses on either. The demons could be all around her, she thought in terror. She closed her eyes and tried to breathe, as her mind closed around survival possibilities.

The closet, she thought and ran to it. Slamming it hard, she took deep breaths.

The sliver of light which pushed through the tightly shut panels, and fell in a luminous rectangle. Her eyes traveled till its end. Her eyes grew large as she saw what it highlighted.

She picked up the book and it opened on its dog eared weakness. _That day_, she thought. _Its from that day- _of magic. Of something more.

Weakness. A cry slipped form her lips as she remembered its old significance.

A little further, a light flared. A blue sphere she hadn't seen glowed azure.

Jane drew a sharp breath.

"Who-"

"Please. We exchange too many pleasantries as it is."


	5. Chapter 5

Still blinking in the glare of the light, she focused again. A pale hand held the sphere, and slim fingers broke the light from it which outlined a tall figure wearing a dark coat. She couldn't see his face.

" I understand this is a little out of order. But my, ah, concern maybe that way too."

He walked closer. His boots made no sound, and he kept clear of what little light there was.

Jane remained where she was. She didn't reply. She raked her eyes over his face, trying to make him out. As for the voice...

She tightened her hand on the knob of the closet. Need be, she would run out and lock him in, even though it would buy her very little time. That voice held a quiet authority which signaled a presence of extreme power.

He stopped and leaned against the side of the closet, a few paces away from her. He brought down the sphere to his other hand and stroked its surface, as if contemplating it. She caught a waft of wood scents and grass. Well, it wasn't a d jinn or afrit then. They never used such lingering perfume. They left or arrived with heady, breezy scents, but did not exude the warm, body scents which surfaced only while moving. She relaxed a little. She had dealt with such men earlier.

"The precautions I took...concerning you calling demons had to be taken. I mean it may have been unessecary but lets not attract attention to what we're...That is I...will be doing."

"Even now I keep away from calling spirits. I am carrying just this precaution." He raised the elemental sphere.

Jane kept silent the whole time. From the way he talked he was insecure, scared to be discovered. And he was doing something which authorities didnt know about. However he had power - enough to carry on his own and keep away from attention. Enough to enter her own heavily guarded home. And that voice had a familiar tone of feigned diffidence. She had heard it before. But where?

"I see you are excercising the right to silence. And exploiting a possiblity of me talking too much and thus revealing the vital clue you will blackmail with henceforth, Ms Farrar."

Jane couldnt keep the surprise off her face. So he did know something about her. He wasnt a lowly magician who was afraid of her but an equal who had observed her methods and kept away.

"I know you have had some success at present. These two years have been kind to you..."

Jane knew who he was. But he wasnt that gawky teenager who fell over himself to appear suave. So appearances were deceptive. She remembered the carefully back handed compliment given at a party when Duvall was still alive and she a new intern under the Police Cheif. She was right about him, his devious side which waited and watched. Her only nemesis.

"If it is out of order, you do realize the amount of legal trouble you are in, Mr Mandrake?" Jane asked icily. "As for your concerns, we can address them more civilly at the Tower."

"I didnt realize I was being uncivil, Ms Farrar. I was perfectly gentlemanly in my carriage." She could hear the amusement in his voice.

"Oh I am sure its very gentlemanly to speak to a lady by breaking into her house."

So it was him, forever finding chinks in her armour. He was the only one to sense her insecurity and make her lose her grip. That one incident was not an idle notion but a real possibilty. She was unsure of her power only with him. He knew it, but he knew that about many people. Why did he choose her then?

She glared at him and she felt his gaze actually addressing her and not appraisng her.

"Always sharp Ms Farrar. I did wonder whether you'd recognize me. Bu then we do have a long association.'

He held up the sphere and she saw his blue eyes reflect the light as he smiled slightly.

"The Golem incident two years ago made me go places...literally." Here he smiled in entirety.

"I rose through the ranks but I chose not stay here and deal with the London chaos. My job was to strengthen the government but I couldnt do it here. I wanted to know more..."

He had come yet closer and was now a few feet away from her. He spoke earnestly and held her gaze. Forever pursuing, always trying so hard at sincerity. But still a smirk of smugness came through his strangely lighted up face.

"I wonder why you had to hide your, ah, noble intentions then, for two years. I understand this seems a little out of order. " She tacked the last one on, a reminder that she had as much power as him in this conversation. She was still angry, affronted at his gall to come and behave like it be as what he may have planned.

Something in his gaze changed. His face was still smiling , but his eyes appeared darker. The blue light from the sphere seemed to be taken away by them as he raked in her face.

The silence held. He didnt speak and niether did she. This was new to Jane. A small jibe and he loses his thread, she thought. He was still looking at her with that strange smile.

"Why would the govenrment not support you here? It appears that the reason for your departure comes down to that..."she trailed off, sensing a lack of response.

"Stop playing my game, Mandrake." she snapped.

His gaze darkened even further and and he brought the sphere dangerously close to her face. She flicked her eyes to it and back to it. She could hear the winds rushing in it, aching to break free.

"I didnt realize that we were playing your game, Farrar. As far as i am concerned, all this..." he waved his hand around the closet "is my game. And I decide when I stop playing."

"So you're finally getting to it arent you, Mandrake? Back to plain boasting and coercion. We have indeed exchanged too many pleasantries." Her anger was threatening to break free, and she was longing to slap his pale face.


	6. Chapter 6

Mandrake did not break his gaze, but his face twitched as he decided what to do with her retaliation. He smiled thinly. When younger, this smile looked affected and a crude imitation of his master's expressions of cleverness. Now...

He looked a dangerous. Even more so, as she didn't even have a djinn to command, a pentacle to use or even a long stick as defense. Her only armor was anger. And cat like poise.

"I have come a long way Ms Farrar. A long way from London's shallow knowledge of books and spells. They are nothing without family."

Jane's anger was turning to blank curiosity. If he had indeed learned so much, why tell her in this shady method and twisted sentences? He was hiding something. Probably power did go his head and he became corrupt. He seemed overly ambitious anyway. And thus wanted favors. She had had enough of magicians and their impatience with work.

"Well, I'm sure the warmth of the family hearth has driven you to spread goodness about the world. Starting from breaking in and blackmail. And coercion if it come to it, isn't it Mr. Mandrake?" Jane folded her arms and glared at him. Her green eyes glittered with tiny brown flecks, and she stood as still as ice.

"You wouldn't be so sure of yourself if you knew-"

"I really don't care about what know you know, what I know, what you could do. Threatening me with a wind ball won't scare me. I'm getting you arrested. Now."

"No, listen to me-"

Jane brought down a stack of empty boxes, knocking the sphere out his hand, and burying him in pieces of sawdust and old newspaper. He stumbled about. Reaching for support. His hand clutched and missed her nightgown by inches. An explosion rang out from under boxes and a fierce wind took up whatever had fallen into the air. It whirled about as she cut through the debri and wrenched the closet door open and locked it from outside.

The door curved outward, and a howl rang out. It was queer, a human scream, lined with deeper, earthy sounds of raging winds.

Jane crept away from the door.

She had to leave the room.

But she must stall him within this place. He couldn't leave, or no one would believe that Mandrake appeared after so long, just to blackmail her.

She didn't even have an imp to call the police department. How on earth would she draw a pentacle before half the floor exploded?

She was still thinking when the howling stopped. There was a ringing silence which felt even more disquieting than the imminent action. Some of the flying bits paper and wood slid out under the closet door. She was scared now. She had to run. What on earth was Mandrake? What could absorb the direct force of nature in seconds?

The door fell open.

The rest of boxes and debri fell out with soft thumps.

She didn't see any of it as she was running across the corridor and towards the front door. It wouldn't open.

"No, no, no, no..." she muttered.

Mandrake must have practiced his dark spell in her whole house, and here she was struggling in the rat trap.

She cried in earnest now. She choked back sobs as the chase would end, but her not running, but of the many who was in the way, only to be tossed away without even putting up a fight.

And then she heard the inevitable sound of the chase ending. The last footsteps. _The last taunt,_ she thought. She turned back, tears still streaming down silently. _I look so weak, _she thought again.

Mandrake stood at the end of the corridor and clicked on the light.

He walked forward, his sharp shadows falling against the tiny paintings and his strides reducing whatever distance she had tried to put forth between him and her. His face was clearer now. His plain face had defined chin now and his mousy brown hair was darker and longer. His eyes which were a common brown appeared the same but lighter. He was still pale though.

His long hand was still shaking out bits of paper from his hair as he stopped a little away from Jane. He looked angry. But he smiled his thin smile. Jane still held the door.

"I need to explain myself. And you will listen because_ I can make you_." His eyes flashed as he hissed out his statement at her. Within her terror, the sentence somehow made her nearly smile. He suddenly sounded like his fourteen year old child self. But he wasn't. He was some new being, of powers she couldn't understand and bereft of whatever morals he had. He _had _been rumored to kill his master anyway.

She looked down at her door knob and back at him. _Why couldn't I leap out of the window instead?_

Before she could do anything, a pale hand closed around her wrist and pulled her hand away from the door.

"You're to listen not do anything stupid. Remain silent if you want to."

Hot flames of anger licked skin, where he was touching her.

"Oh I will listen. And then I will kill you." she replied.


	7. Chapter 7

Okay...I will start to do a Nathaniel POV too..not very soon, considering my lumbering pace but it will come. Please keep reviewing, its so encouraging!

John heard her statement and gave her a fleeting glance. Jane felt the indifference and rage leapt inside her. _He just come in and bullies me. _Just like the others, she had no control over her choice of life. Just when it seemed to go a particular way, someone else came in to snatch the reigns from her. If she took any step now, he would turn around coerce her with magic. So she let herself be dragged away by Mandrake.

His pale hand had closed about her wrist tightly, and as if sensing her dissent, he walked faster and pulled her along more forcefully than required. Jane grew angrier at his childish display of dominance, but let it simmer. Anger without correct timing could prove to be stupid, if not fatal, especially when dealing with a creature like him. She needed him to define his ideas, she wanted him to outline his new power and then she- …...

She still wouldn't know what to do.

She could sense his surety, his determination and a new confidence not born out of books and spells. She wasn't wearing her lenses, but she remembered the strange way his eyes looked; pale, shifting, reflective in the darkness that there was. She remembered the peculiar scream, from moments ago. It wasn't human, with an emotion underlining it. She could not hear fear, shock or pain. It was harmonic, sudden; it came and subsided with the winds which burst and died like the spark of a match.

Mandrake stopped and twisted her around to face him. After a fraction of a moment, he shoved her toward her new couch, where she sat just hours ago. Jane tried to gain whatever little composure she could and fought to keep her gaze away from him, lest the dam of temper break free.

_How dare he shove me about? You will pay Mandrake. You will pay._

She took in silent breaths and folded her arms. She felt disgusted, hurt and above all, black with loathing. She wouldn't even treat a convicted prisoner this way. Or even a slave. She might snatch public freedom when arresting someone, but she respected the worth of life. His arrogance could only be borne out of some bloated idea of self worth; weak to begin with and hollow if tested.

He now sat facing her on the mahogany coffee table she chose herself, just a few weeks ago. How happy she had been then. She was a hard working magician, a powerful and beautiful woman of her own merit. Now this monster sat with steepled fingers and watched her with those strange eyes, like an animal debating methods of kill. She looked down fixedly.

"So..." he said, in his bland way. He was waiting for her to speak. _Cheap etiquette,_ she thought.

Jane didn't respond. She was freezing up again. Now, however she wouldn't try to run or react. She would hear out his miserable story and veiled threats. And pray that she would figure a way out of this mess. He maybe powerful in new ways but was still human. And humans had finite limits of endurance.

"...I spoke to you earlier about family." He paused now and cocked his head, as if trying to catch her gaze. She hadn't looked up at all. He wondered if she was listening at all.

"...It is something unusual in this impersonal magician's world. Here we adpot and rear children to greatness. But then later, they cut each other to pieces for power." Mandrake stopped here and un-steepled his fingers.

Jane was listening. At this sentence, she looked up. Her green eyes sparkled, this time with curiosity. Mandrake's gaze was still fixed on her. He seemed serious, his dark eyes contemplating something.

"...So I studied-"

Jane whispered "...do you have any idea why?"

Mandrake blinked and looked unsure. "Er...what did you-?"

"You said they cut each other to peices for power. I asked you whether you knew why." Her words came out stronger, her voice more steady.

"Because people see what they learn. I learnt the same as you. I learnt that for success you work for yourself. You build for yourself, and if anyone gets in the way...well then.

You do what you're doing right now. And then you make lofty statements about family. Which doesnt count here Mr. Mandrake, because they do the same." Jane finished, her gaze intense and unfaltering.

John Mandrake now stood up and walked to edge of the room. He was queit for a few moments and then spoke in a soft tone.

"If you have had your say, I would like to continue." He looked annoyed but somehow harmless, which of course was not the truth. Jane felt affronted; he didnt even

consider her words. His arrogance seemed to fill the room.

"You are right in essence, and this is why London magicians discourage family. However there is this commoner science known as genetics and heredity, which has much to do with family."

A new wave of surprise played over Jane's face. Mandrake was not powerful, it seemed, but absurd. Magicians had long moved beyond this, and he thought he could break in like a common criminal and scare her with science text books of thirteen year old commoners.

"So, you will grow and graft families in a hidden place so that powerful magicians are born under your discretion.?" Jane asked innocently.

"Do you think magicians have not already been there and done that?" Jane smirked and smiled for the first time. An icy grin lit up her light eyes.

Mandrake sat down again and gave her an equally chilly glare. "I would appreciate you not interrupting everything I have to say. Probably this is why you have no companions, apprentice or otherwise. You have no patience for anyone but yourself. "

The grin froze and Jane said "You do not have the right to judge me, especially when I consider your behavior. I would say that whatever you say holds true for you too, Mandrake."

Mandrake held her gaze as she gave him a look of murder and looked away. It was evident that either was trying their best to be civil, but were itching to break that agreement. Mandrake looked forbidding and still, a marked difference to Jane's anger, which was burning her through and making her hands shake. Even though she kept them folded she couldnt trust herself for doing that for too long.

"I ask you again, to overlook this instance of my ahhh... dis-courteousness." He paused and looked at her. This time, the change in the imperious tone made her look up, but found his gaze moving swiftly up and down and almost trailing on her near bare shoulder.

She colored as she was irresistably reminded of the Prime Minister's Ball, of how the look made her feel different. Naively, she'd felt anger. And then other things as that feeling ebbed away. She felt new. Aware. Female. The feeling strangely, was the same now. She waited for him to look at her again. A slight smile played at her mouth. She suddenly knew the most potent game changer.

Herself.

He had come for her, talk to her, persuade her. Despite being all that strength, power and intimidation, it was her he'd wanted.

She would see how far this had to go.

I now prod you and wave enthusiastically towards that **tasty** green review button. Remember, veggies are good for health!


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